


Never So Alone As With You

by Arcanista



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Breakups, Child Death, Divorce, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Canon, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5611237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcanista/pseuds/Arcanista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It begins and it ends with gravest injustice: the deaths of the innocent. Even the love of Queen for King cannot long survive their children, no matter how hard they both try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kummerspeck

This kitchen is her domain in a _personal_ way that no other place in the kingdom is. Toriel has always taken such pride in what she does here in this place, where her children would come in and tug at her apron, begging to lick spoons or to sneak bites of treats. Where her husband would slip inside and wrap his arms around her waist and wheedle for goodies with barely more subtlety than the little ones.

Her fingers shake as she cuts the butter into the flour, slamming the cutter down hard enough that she feels the handle quake in her palm.

Her adoptive child is dead. Her son is missing. And here she is in the kitchen like a _coward_. Asgore is in the bedroom, doing-- she doesn't know what. The pastry cutter lands against the counter, tick-tick-tick-tick. She should have seen, should have anticipated, should have known.

Chara's last wish-- how could she have been so blind? She saw the look in Asriel's eyes when the dying child gasped out how they wished to see the flowers in their village. She should have known the boy would want to help. Such a good, sweet child, her son. Of course he would want to help, of course he would try to do whatever he could.

Of course he would take Chara's soul and flee for the barrier. Toriel sprinkles a pinch of salt through the crumbs of butter and flour, then splashes cold water on top to bind the dough. She slams it all together, kneading it as if it were some robust bread dough and not her famous pie crust, delicate and flaky. Her knuckles grind into the mass, pressing down until they hit counter.

She has already cried for the loss of one of her children. She will not cry now, not while she prays for the other's safe return. She refuses. She picks up the wad of dough and slaps it against the counter, working it until her finger-fur grows slimy with melting butter.

There's nothing she can do for this dough. Toriel glares down at it, as if that will cool the butter, make the dough less overworked, as if there's any way to make the crust at all delicate and flaky now. She picks it up and hurls it toward the trash. The dough hits the wall and sticks for a second, before landing with a thud into the can.

Toriel reaches for her measuring cup, pulls the bag of flour over again. She dumps one cup onto the counter and goes for another when she hears the kitchen door open behind her.

"Your majesty!" The attendant is out of breath, holding the doorframe as he tries to steady himself.

She rushes past him without waiting for so much as another word. "Where?" is the only question she has time to spare, even if she's halfway through the living room by the time she finishes.

"In the garden!" The attendant's voice rings out behind her. "Hurry!"

Going at a dead run, she catches up with Asgore in the formal reception hall. He looks at her for half a second and nods, but he doesn't slow down. She'd never forgive him if he did.

Asriel is in the garden. No longer the Asriel she knew-- Chara's soul has changed him. Tall and majestic as if he were grown, striped shirt torn, cradling Chara's body in his arms. He falls, and as he drops, he lets the body land onto the ground beside him with a soft thud.

And he is dying. He is turning to dust before them, dissolving before their eyes. Asriel looks up at them. "Mom, dad," he says, in a voice still as small as she remembers it. "I, I-- the humans thought I hurt them. I didn't hurt anyone. I didn't."

Beside her, Asgore drops to his knees and pulls Asriel tight to his chest. "Sssh," he says, stroking their son's dissolving head. "I know."

Toriel moves beside them and lowers herself to the ground with her husband and son-- their _children_. She strokes Chara's hair, the cool waxen skin, and she reaches out too, taking Asriel into her arms, too. Her voice strangles in her throat, fingers clutching the ruined striped sweater.

Asriel dissolves between them and his dust spreads across the garden.


	2. Fuchsteufelswild

Asgore has known loss before. He has known the passage of years, and he has known war. Friends, family, subordinates, subjects and strangers-- all of these have been taken from him.

He has never known the loss of a child, much less two.

He and Toriel cling to each other that night, and he sheds the tears a king cannot but a father must. She is small against him in a way she can be with no one else. He needs that smallness, needs to feel her huddled against his chest. He grips her as tightly as he can and listens to her sob into him. He presses his face into the top of her head, his own breath ragged.

Neither of them sleep that night.

The morning comes too soon. Morning comes and they dress in their most formal, most regal robes. There are duties that must be performed. These are deaths to make a nation weep.

"You don't need to come," says Asgore, brushing his fingers over her cheek. It's mostly dry now, but the fur still sticks together where it was wet.

She pulls away and sets his formal crown atop his head, between his horns. "Of course I do," she says. "I would not leave you to do this alone. Oh, Gorey. Do you know what you will say? I would not want you to, to." Toriel stops there and looks away for a moment. She looks back, past his face, and straightens the crown one last time.

Asgore nods slowly, weight of the crown making the motion deliberate. "Together then," he says, drawing her close to squeeze her again.

Together, they go to the great golden hall, walking hand in hand. Their subjects are starting to trickle in; the sound technicians have speakers and microphones ready and waiting. The cameras are ready to broadcast the address everywhere throughout the underground. They take their place at the head of the chamber. An attendant hands Asgore a prepared speech.

"Did you want to say something to start, dear?" Asgore asks Toriel.

"Not this time," she says, squeezing his arm. She leans up and kisses his cheek. He holds onto her arms in return, looking down into her eyes and he nods. "It is all yours, sweetheart. This will-- it will not be long."

Asgore nods and exhales. "It won't," he says, and takes her hands. "Everything will be-- er. We can go to the garden afterward. The quiet, and, and." He brushes his fingers against her cheek, and she takes his hand. He turns for the microphone stand.

He looks out over the crowd, watches them file in and seat themselves in folding chairs. He lifts the paper with the speech on it and unfolds it. The words swim on the page before his eyes. There's no way he can read it. Asgore reaches out with one hand, blindly reaching for Toriel; she catches his hand with hers.

It takes a few minutes for everyone to arrive, for the lights to get set up. The cameras move in. The director waves at him. He blinks, looking out over the faces of the crowd. He opens his mouth and no voice comes out. He closes it, swallows, and tries again. "Dear citizens. Thank you for coming here today. Thank you for watching from your homes. It is with a heavy heart that I, King Asgore, must inform you all of yesterday's events. As you may have known, our dear adoptive child was stricken with a human illness. Yesterday afternoon, they-- they succumbed to that illness."

Asgore squeezes Toriel's hand. He looks out over the gathered people, sees their faces fall. Not everyone was pleased that their king and queen had adopted a human, but no one here would begrudge either of them their love. A few of them dab at their eyes. "Their final wish was to see the flowers that grew in their village. All of us knew this could not be. But. Our son Asriel-- I know many of you gathered here knew him. Knew his gentle spirit and kind heart." The crowd starts murmuring amongst themselves. Something other than sympathy, deeper than sadness grows on their faces as the import of his words settles in. One seated in the middle turns to a companion, holding on for support.

He can only continue. "Asriel took their soul in and carried their body past the barrier. He thought only of the human who was as close to him as a twin. But he-- when he reached the human village, he..." Asgore stops and swallows, looking out over the crowd. They know where this address is going. They know what humans are like. They know the stories of human cruelty that drove them underground, and they know none of them will ever see Asriel again. Some of them start to cry, and their sobs ring in his ears.

"When the humans saw our beloved son and prince carrying the body of a human child, the villagers thought he murdered them." Asgore sees nothing but despair growing upon their faces. Something grips him, something he hasn't felt since the war. The injustice, the cruelty, the thoughtlessness of it all-- Asriel, who never hurt anyone in his life. Asriel, who took Chara to the surface for nothing but love. Asriel who died for human cruelty, for the proof that nothing has changed since that time of war. "And those _humans_ attacked poor Asriel. Asriel, the gentlest of boys! Who meant to return the body of their own lost child, to return it to the sun and flowers denied to all of us! And even then, Asriel harmed not a single one of them!" 

Toriel's hand is tight on his, but now the enormity of this evil against his strikes Asgore like a whip. He cannot allow these humans to steal the hope from his people's eyes. "He did not-- would not leave the body with those butchers. He returned to us, beaten but not broken, and we met him in the garden. And we held him as his dust spilled out across the garden. And I say to you now, my citizens, that we will not let this crime, this betrayal of trust stand. We took in this lost and trapped human, and this is how we were repaid? They think nothing of their own loss, and only of killing a _monster_! No! We know humanity's true shape now!"

Asriel who died in his arms because of the foulness of humanity. Who'd never conspire with Chara again to present him with sweaters or prizes declaring him the best dad in the underground. Asriel, who would never laugh or cry again, who would never beg for a second or third bedtime story. Asriel, stolen away and for _what_? To crush his people? His people crying openly over the death of his perfect son. Crying now for Chara too, who meant far more now to the monsters than they ever could have to the human plague.

The rage has him fully now. His voice comes out as a roar. "Henceforth, I declare _war_! When the next human falls to the underground, we will not be fooled into embracing them as kin! They shall be brought to me, and I, Asgore, king of all monsters shall claim their soul! And I will do it again! And again! Until I hold within me seven human souls, and I destroy the barrier that traps all of us here in this cursed place! And I will lead us out of here, and we will wipe the surface clean of the humans that have wronged us all again and again!"

The sorrow and despair melts from the faces of the citizens gathered before him, and a moment after Asgore stops to breathe, their cheers ring out through the hall.

But Asgore feels cool air against his palm, feels the warmth of Toriel's hand slipping away. He turns toward her at last, and he cannot meet her stare.


	3. Backpfeifengesicht

They withdraw to the gardens after Asgore finishes his speech. It will be some time before everyone has gone home, and the two of them need their privacy. Toriel refuses to so much as look at him on the walk there.

All of the anger deflates out of Asgore the minute they set foot into the bright green room, the place where their son died, the place where his dust still clings to the grass. Asgore's head droops as he says, "Tori, I--"

"Do not!" she says, stalking across the chamber to look out the tunnel that leads out and up. The tunnel to the barrier, that accursed thing. She draws her hands back and brings all the magic she has to bear in them, launching a white-hot ball of fire to burst against the back wall, sizzling the air and dissipating.

"Toriel," Asgore tries again. "You saw their faces. What else could I have done? They needed... they needed hope."

She cannot bring herself to turn, to look at him. "They needed hope so you gave them war," she says. Fire crackles between her fingertips. But she sighs and shakes her hand out, sparks fizzling out in the air before they hit the ground. "I did see their faces. It is only your good intentions that keep me from, from." She stops, and stares into the darkness.

Asgore approaches slowly; his steps are deceptively quiet behind her. But he was never _physically_  graceless, no. "Tori. Perhaps it will... blow over. In a little while."

Toriel doesn't dignify that with a response. Asgore declared _war_. A war that, perhaps, their people have never stopped wanting. No one alive, save them and one more, knows what the war that drove them underground cost. They only know what they have been denied. But perhaps people will calm down and see reason. Perhaps. "Chara was human, too," she says, when she feels Asgore just behind her.

His forehead comes to rest against the back of her shoulder, one horn not far from her opposite cheek. "I know."

It isn't enough for him to _know_. It wasn't enough in the hall. "The very last thing our son wanted us to know is that he hadn't hurt any humans." She leaves it at that. She doesn't call his declaration a betrayal of Asriel's memory. She doesn't raise her voice.

Asgore's voice is so tiny for someone so large. "I know." He lifts his hands, then lets them fall before he touches her.

She holds her peace. Perhaps this is her fault after all. She should have said something first. Asgore never did have the knack for public speaking. She had been selfish, placing the whole weight upon him. Maybe he's right. Maybe it will blow over, when people's sorrows have had time to settle. He'll be able to quietly rescind the order, perhaps. They'll be able to find some sort of life for themselves again. Toriel sighs, and reaches back, taking Asgore's hands in hers.

"I couldn't think of anything else to say," he says into her shoulder. "What those humans did--"

"I know," says Toriel, nearly letting go of Asgore's hands. But she does not drop them. "It was horrible. That does not mean it is right to call for their destruction. I should have spoken first. I am sorry."

Maybe Asgore feels the tension in her hands. Either way, he withdraws them. "Do not be sorry. I am still king, and I spoke as king to our people. And one day, the humans will pay for all they have done to us, right or wrong."

Toriel steps away from him, turning not to face him, but to walk past him. "You spoke as the father of our children," she says. "You spoke in anger to a people who needed the patience and wisdom of a king." She does not look back at him as she makes for the door back to the hall. "I will be in the kitchen. Please, leave me be for a while."


	4. Verschlimmbesserung

It's called a coffin. A human thing. Asgore wants to see nothing of these human things. Not the coffin, nor the human corpse lying within it. He rests his hand on the open edge, staring down at the pallid face of the child he'd raised as his own.

Why doesn't he feel anything? He felt so much right up until the second he stepped into this room below the garden. Now he is empty.

Toriel comes to stand beside him, one hand on his arm. He lifts his hand to cover hers, and then her head rests on his shoulder. "They were so young," she says, voice hoarse. She reaches down to brush her fingers over the-- body's cheek. "They did not deserve this. Any of this."

Asgore looks down at that empty face. It had brought him so much hope, once. The notion that humans and monsters might somehow, one day be able to co-exist. Chara had been the proof of that, and he had loved them for it. For themself, too, of course, their smiles and easy laugh. Their drawings, and the way they'd always been good at catch. Even that disastrous pie couldn't dim Chara's infectious charm. And they'd been so good at encouraging Asriel, coaxing smiles out of tears. Asriel...

"Asriel didn't deserve this, either," says Asgore, staring down at the lifeless human child.

Toriel's hand drops away from his arm. "You are not rescinding the order. You still intend to go through with this-- this plan."

He looks over at her, and he can't read her face. She's keeping him out as thoroughly as if she were standing on the other side of a wall. Asgore sighs, letting his shoulders sag. "Not yet, Tori. Right now, the people-- they still need..."

It's too late to take back the speech. It was always too late. Declaring a war is as easy as saying the words. Stopping one is nearly impossible. Not with the people bright-eyed and eager, ready to surge back up to the surface. They've nearly forgotten the sorrow that caused his declaration; instead his subjects polish their swords and practice their spells. This after mere days, and the word only starting to spread through his kingdom. The monsters already dream of sunlight, and human blood staining grass. It's too late even for a king to beg them to stop.

It's too late to think of anything to say to Toriel's back, as she heads upstairs.


	5. Fernweh

Toriel tries. She does her best to act as though things are normal. Mostly normal. She bakes pies and she sits in her chair and reads books. She tries not to listen when people around her speak of the upcoming war, of hoping for the day when the next human falls. She tries to go about her business, to go over the paperwork that inevitably comes with ruling a kingdom.

Asgore refuses to relent on the matter of his declaration. He stops saying that it might be possible to rescind the order soon. Not that Toriel ever believed it; she knows full well that once Asgore sets himself on a path he will never turn from it. Unless perhaps it's wrong-- but Toriel doesn't know that he truly believes it's wrong. No matter what she says. As if the time for words hasn't long passed.

But she tries. She really, truly tries.

It isn't enough. She realizes it in bed one night, Asgore straining atop her, and she can't bring herself to even feign interest, let alone enthusiasm. His grunts in her ear fill her with something close to disgust, not the passion it once awoke in her.

Even Asgore can feel it, and whatever thing that had aroused him leaves, and he slips out of her. He rolls back onto his side of the bed, heaving out a sigh. "I'm sorry," he says.

She stares up at the ceiling, fixing it in her memory. "I am sorry, too," she says. They are the last words she means to speak to him.

Toriel lies in bed until after Asgore falls asleep. She can't sleep here another day. She knows it. When his snores start rumbling through the room, she slides out of bed. She's not built to move quietly, but Asgore is not a light sleeper. She finds a bag and folds up some casual robes, slipping them inside. She doesn't need to bring much with her.

To the kitchen next; there's still half a pie sitting out. She leaves it be, and opts to just take her chocolate bar from the fridge. She nibbles at the corner as she writes a note. There isn't much to say in it: just a good-bye.

But there's one more thing she needs to take with her. Toriel slips downstairs, all the way down to the basement. To the coffin. She knows the old human tradition, what they do with... bodies, that have gone empty. And Asgore has lost his right to Chara-- if he's going to treat all humans as his enemy, then she will not leave the remains of their second child with him. She refuses.

Cradling the corpse in her arms, Toriel leaves the city.


	6. Bergentrückung

He is already damned. This he knows and this Toriel's continuing absence confirms. He wonders what would happen if he were to declare an end to the war. He wonders if Toriel would return to him then. He wonders if his people would rise up against him.

Asgore cannot even turn aside, let alone turn back. He stops turning at every shutting door, expecting-- hoping that Toriel has come back to him, has forgiven him.

It takes years to stop hoping. He never does stop wanting. But he is the king, and he is more than his love for her. He orders her throne covered and put into storage. He leaves her reading chair in place. It's a good chair. He might want to use it sometime.

After a while, he stops misting up at the scent of cinnamon. He tries, now and again, to re-create her recipe. It never tastes exactly right. 

The worst thing of all is that life finds a way to go on. Because that is what life does. Most of the day-to-day of running the kingdom is simple. He wanders and visits his subjects. He listens to their problems, and he solves them if he can. He visits schools and talks to the children, and that's even easy because they're not _his_  children.

But mostly he tends to his garden. Beautiful golden flowers begin to grow there, around the spot where his son died. They're so bright and cheery, he takes it as a bit of a sign that he should do his best, too. They spread out over the garden, and so long as he takes care of them, they never wilt, and they never fade. He decorates the house with them, cuts them and gives them as gifts. He manages to smile, and only thinks of Toriel rarely.

The guards, the attendants, the advisors grow old and change around him. Before long, no one around him ever knew Asriel alive. That helps. But now he is surrounded by people who grew up on the hope of one day annihilating humanity. There is no escape from this curse of his own making.

Word arrives that something that might be a human has been sighted in the underground. Asgore gives the order: find the human, and bring them to him. And he sighs, and he waits on his throne, trident across his knees.

She is brought before him, struggling and kicking between the two guards that hold her. Her hair is a mess, one ribbon holding her hair back on one side, the other lost somewhere along the way. She calms when she sees the garden, bright and filled with flowers, but the fear is still in her eyes. He gestures at the guards and they release her.

Asgore plants the base of his trident into the ground and stands. He opens his mouth and does not hesitate to speak to the guards. He is already damned. "Please close the door behind you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [End.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pcamjcoRmrQ)


End file.
